Nightmares
by Red-Handed-Bandit
Summary: Shepard cannot rid herself of the visions and terror the beacon showed her. Distraught and finding herself in need of comfort, she reaches out to someone she knows will help squelch the thoughts, if only for a moment.


**1.**a terrifying dream in which the dreamer experiences feelings of helplessness, extreme anxiety, sorrow, etc.

**2.**a condition, thought, or experience suggestive of a nightmare: _the nightmare of his years in prison. _

**3. **(formerly) a monster or evil spirit believed to oppress persons during sleep.

Carnage. Violence. Red_. _Hollow beings. Worlds torn apart. Screaming. Smoke. Dust. Burning. Images that would not cease tore into her in the night. Horrors she had seen flooded through her, visions from the beacon wracking her aching body.

Weeks had gone by since Saren's attack on the Citadel, on the galaxy. Yet her nightmares did not dissipate. Shore leave had gone by quickly, the time to forget and recuperate ruined as every planet had busied itself by clearing out any remaining Geth. She had been hounded relentlessly by reporters, fans, and other soldiers, asking for her to regale them with tales of her success. She couldn't get away from it all, and still, they weren't finished.

The Reapers would soon return, and it was her job to put an end to it. To protect the galaxy from destruction once more. But she was tired. Sick and tired of the death and destruction. Sick and tired of worrying over her life and the lives of others. Sick and tired of being the "hero", because by definition, a hero was willing to give up their lives for others.

But she was terrified, absolutely and irrevocably terrified of this fact. She had known when signing up with the Alliance, had known it when she was made a Spectre, that death was a possibility. It had _always_ been a possibility. But now, as she tossed and turned within the confines of her bed sheets, sweat coating her skin, she wished none of it had happened. Wished she had stayed on Earth to live her life out alone and without such demand. Wished she had no recollection of the horrors she had seen on the battlefield, or the terrors she experienced in the night.

And Shepard wished to be gathered up into strong arms. To be held by a loved one and to be whispered calming words to make the dreams disappear. To dissolve into nothing if only for a few moments. Because for her, as for every soldier, that moment spent could be your last. Ashley had experienced it as did several others during her travels. Nameless or not, their blood still weighed heavily in her hands. How she wished this burden had been placed upon someone else. Someone more qualified. Because she was a coward.

A coward that wished to curl into the side of the one she saved. The one she clung to desperately through all the missions. The one she had protected so selfishly it cost the life of another. She had told him it was neither of their faults, but she had lied. The decision had been hers and hers alone. And now she craved his comfort.

She needed his steady hands, the same ones that had fluttered over her body the night before they faced Saren. She had been the one to initiate it, her lips crashing down on his surprised ones. She had felt like a teenager, with her fumbling fingers and nervous energy. She had been a bundle of nerves, and he had been calm and passionate, seeming to know exactly what buttons to push and when. She had needed him then as well. She needed a lover, something real to feel. She had worried she would never see him after that night, and he worried he would never see her after that night.

But now, instead of a lover, Shepard needed comfort. To feel him encase her in his arms. To hear his breath at her ear. Feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. Something real to anchor her back down.

Her feet touched down on the cooling tile of the Normandy, the comforting whir of the engine thrumming beneath her toes. It was a reassuring sound and feeling, one that steadied her in times like this.

Padding softly toward the crews quarters, she sought out the only man who could quell her ever increasing anxiety. He was one in a handful of other members of the crew inside the room, head tucked beneath the pillow, hands clenched into fists until the pillow's fabric grew taught. His harsh breathing and restless shifting made her hesitate, finding that he had yet to fall asleep. She had seen him rubbing his temples furiously earlier that day, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes in attempts to rub away the pain. Apparently that pain had not left as he gave an irritated huff before realizing someone was watching.

He lifted his head groggily, eyes squinting in the dark in attempts to make out who it was before him. He blinked furiously before it dawned on him. "Shepard?" It was quiet, a whisper so as not to wake the room's occupants.

She said nothing in reply, watching him steadily for a moment before taking his hand in her own and leading him out from the room. He followed silently, finding he probably would not receive an answer as to what it was that concerned her.

He studied her back during their short walk back to her quarters, finding she was extremely underdressed to be wandering around the Normandy even at this hour. She wore a large and ill fitting gray civilian's shirt that came just bellow her waist and not much else. He couldn't help but wonder if it was one of his own, but he never bothered to ask.

They entered her room and she pulled him onto the cot warily. She buried her head into his neck and he realized what she wanted, and why. Shepard never spoke of her visions, not since her first encounter with the beacon. She never spoke of her nightmares though he knew they still plagued her. He had felt her toss and turn the nights they spent together on shore leave, and each time he woke her and asked she would deny ever having been bothered by them.

So he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her forehead softly. His migraine was still present, though not as terrible as it had been moments ago. The rise and fall of her chest caused his muscles to relax and his breathing to steady. She molded herself into his side, perfectly fitting within his grasp. He found it akin to two puzzle pieces placed together.

He allowed a hand to trail beneath the shirt, tracing small soothing circles against her bare skin. It felt warm beneath his palm as his calloused fingers grazed over the small nicks and marks that marred her from battles long since passed. Kaidan watched her eyes flutter closed lips pressing to his throat in silent thanks.

Before she lost herself in a dreamless sleep, she felt Kaidan begin to speak. It wasn't much, nothing she needed to reply to. Only reassurances and promises he made to keep her steady. It wasn't until his last sentence that her breath caught.

It was almost too quiet to hear, a breath of a sound that had her reeling. Unsure if she had heard correctly she waited for him to repeat. He didn't and despite her doubts as to the statement's existence, she repeated the sentiment, heart swelling as the words spilled against the base of his throat. "I love you."

* * *

**One of what will probably be many little fics possibly leading up to a larger Mass Effect fic. I'm still trying to figure out what my FemShep should be named as there are so many possibilities, and none really seem "right" to me. I wanted a meaningful name for her, then again I thought, why? Why not have a completely average name like: Anna (I like this one the most.) Tell me what you guys think and give me some example names. My in game Shepard is named Quinn btw**

**Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!**


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